


Intimidating

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Series: Convin Challenge 2019 [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Romance, Connor is smooth af, Convin Challenge 2019, Day 1, Fluff and Humor, Gavin is a disaster, Humor, M/M, but I love him anyway, t for language, this probably counts as crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: In which Gavin accidentally hits on a detective to prove his innocence.





	Intimidating

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyy apparently today was the first day of a Convin challenge i guess so here we go! I’ll do as many of these little bits as I can because I love soff Convin it makes my soul happy.

Sometimes Gavin wishes he could meet people in a normal or cliche way--bump someone and spill their coffee, buy a drink at a bar for a good-looking man, make his affections known by a cute note or a flower, maybe even help some poor asshole on the side of the road or at his apartment to carry the groceries in. That literally never happens to him, though. He always meets people as a direct result of his unending idiocy.

This time it is no different.

 

* * *

 

“TWENTY-EIGHT STAB WOUNDS! YOU DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE HIM A CHANCE, DID YOU?!”

His face is beautiful. He’s got a light sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of his nose, a perfectly gelled flop of brown hair, parted perfectly and swept to one side. Clean shaven and young, with brown eyes that match his brown hair. He’s wearing a pressed white shirt and a silvery-black tie, a charcoal-black suit jacket that looks new and expensive, and a silver tie clip which he’s adjusted twice. He is  _ neat.  _ Everything about him is clean and linear, simple, but still beautiful. The cool black of his suit brings out the warm brown in his hair and eyes. It’s a sharp contrast to my dirty work boots, wrinkled tee that says “screw you” (but the screw is an actual screw because construction jokes) underneath a flannel faux-hoodie thing that makes me look hangover-pale and probably like I need an NA meeting. Normally I don’t give a shit how I look, but today, I feel like a mess just looking at him.

His face is fucking terrifying. His brown eyes are so angry, they’re black in the clinic-like light of the interrogation room. His hand slaps down gruesome photos with such strength and ander that I flinch every time he slams one down. His other hand is in a tight fist, and he’s leaning over me, his entire body hostile, right down to his tie clip which he’s adjusted twice. He’s yelling so loud my ears ring, and the cold metal room makes me cringe away from him. Any other day, for any other person, I would stand up and get in his face, and yell the loudest FUCK YOU that I can manage. But this detective…

I swallow. “I…”

“Look, whatever happened, you’re in a world of trouble. You’ve got to tell me what happened that night.”

“I… I swear to God, okay? Nothing happened. I don’t know how I ended up with that dead guy. I already told you, I was drinking and I blacked out. I don’t even know him! I woke up, got my shit together, and got myself a taxi home because I had not a fucking clue where I was.”

“That’s really convenient,” the man sneers. “You don’t remember what happened that day because you blacked out drunk with your friends, so you don’t remember STABBING A MAN TO DEATH!”

“I DIDN’T STAB HIM!” I’m finally pissed off enough to get up and scream in his face. 

His eyes widen for a moment, and he sits back, thoughtful. “How’d your fingerprints get on the knife?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I had to cut a sandwich or something.”

“Did you eat a sandwich?”

“I don’t fucking know!” I yell, frustrated. I don’t want to go to jail, I didn’t do anything wrong. “All I know is that my best friend Tina, her pal Wilson, and some guy I didn’t know, and I were all partying it up, drinking and probably on something, who knows, and that we ended up walking outside because Tina and I both got too woozy to keep drinking. Come to think of it, that guy that I didn’t know, it was his idea to share an Uber or something.”

“Also super convenient for you.”

“It’s the truth, okay? You can ask Tina. That’s what happened.” I rub at my wrists, my panic finally showing through as I stare at the shiny metal cuffs on them. I’ve been sitting here so long that they’re rubbed red-raw and my ass is numb. I want to go home. “Look, I don’t know what else you want me to tell you. I know myself, okay? I know I’m an asshole and I curse a lot and generally piss people off, but I’m not a killer, I don’t even like to fight. I didn’t kill that guy, okay? And I sure as hell didn’t do it 28 times! Holy shit.”

The detective sits forward for a moment, searching my face for something. He sits back. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I… what?”

“Tell me about yourself. Where are you from, what do you do for work, what are your hobbies, do you blackout drink regularly…”

“I… no. It was Tina’s birthday, we were all doing shots. Um… I’m Gavin, obviously, and I’m 32 and I work construction. I mostly just do that and watch TV—I don’t do anything else because construction is exhausting and when I get home I just want to vegetate. I grew up here in Detroit. My mom raised me and my sister on her own.”

“Where’s your father?”

“Unknown,” I answer with a shrug. “Got no fucking clue and I don’t care.”

“Hmm.” 

He watches me for a long again, and I find myself blushing. What the fuck is wrong with me? He just… he keeps staring, and his eyes are pretty but they’re tearing me apart and I don’t know how to feel about that. He might as well have diamond drill bits as eyeball attachments. I put my head in my hands, and he sits back. The very tops of his ears turn pink, I think, and he gives a sigh that tells me he’s either about to walk out and leave me here again, or he’s going to start yelling again. I don't want either.

I can’t help myself, I start to ramble. “I… you’re the only person I’ve ever met that can get angrier than I am and that’s saying a lot. You make my ears ring and you have freckles on your nose and under your eyes, which I like a lot. I wouldn’t lie to you because I’m not a liar and also because I have no filter, clearly. If you were anybody else I’d probably ask you out but you’re a cop and that’s intimidating as fuck and you probably would say no because you think I killed some guy in a drunken stupor, which is actually really depressing and I’m never drinking again. Look, nobody as drunk as I was has enough aim to nail a guy in the heart once, much less 28 times, so… just let me go home, okay? I didn’t kill anybody. I missed a day of work for this and my boss is going to be pissed, and I’m going to lose my job and then you would really never go out with me because I’d be a jobless bum. My ass is numb from sitting in this chair and I’ve seen enough Law and Order to know that you people lower the temperature in these rooms on purpose to make people tense. I’ll have you know I love the fucking cold so that didn’t help your case.”

“But my being attractive did?”

If this entire precinct got eaten by a sinkhole, I would be happy right now.

The detective laughs, throwing his head back and cackling so hard that he almost slips off his chair. He calms down enough to reach over with something sharp and shiny, and I almost shrink away until I realize he’s releasing the handcuffs.

I stand up, pushing my sleeve up to rub my arm when he takes my hand, gently massaging my wrist. “Okay?” he asks, frowning at the pink-red lines where the cuffs dug in against my skin. My entire body feels like I’m being shoved in an electric socket, starting from right where his finger are brushing against the pulse on the inside of my wrist.

Rather than ending up saying something stupid again, I just nod.

He smiles, reaching for my other wrist and giving it the same treatment. Then he reaches into the breast pocket of his black suit jacket, handing me a dark gray square. “You should call me if you can think of anything else you can remember. Or, you know, if you ever stop being intimidated by asking out a police officer.”

 

* * *

 

In that moment, as Gavin stared at the gray cardstock in his hand—

_ Detective Connor Anderson  _ __  
_ Detroit Police Department  _ __  
_ c.anderson @ dpd.gov _ __  
_ (313) 555- 0123 x 450 _ __  
_ (313) 555- 1234 fax _ _  
_ __ (313) 248- 3171 cell

—then staring in bewilderment at the man whose brown eyes were now bright with amusement instead of snapping in fury, that he is glad he is a drunk moron that can’t hold his liquor to save his life.

 

* * *

 

> **GR:** I’m honestly still intimidated af
> 
> **CA:** Well then, let me show you that I’m very not intimidating. 
> 
> **CA:** Do you like Italian?
> 
> **GR:** I… 
> 
> **GR:** So now you’re asking me out?!
> 
> **CA:** You were intimidated.
> 
> **GR:** Fuck you, man
> 
> **CA:** Lol okay but you have to answer the question first.
> 
> **GR:** Yes, I like Italian. 
> 
> **CA:** I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6:30?
> 
> **GR:** Sure?
> 
> **CA:** I can’t wait. See you then.
> 
> **GR:** Wait, you have my address?
> 
> **GR:** Of course you do. Nevermind. 
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that, I’m sure there’ll be more of this challenge tomorrow! In the mean time, drop a kudos if you liked that and tell what you would have liked to see in the comment box below.
> 
> See ya tomorrow, I think!
> 
> you guys rock,  
> <3Daisy


End file.
